


Carolyn Says

by Lemon Drop (quercus)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-13
Updated: 2000-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quercus/pseuds/Lemon%20Drop





	Carolyn Says

The first time I saw Blair Sandburg, he asked me to uncuff him.

I had no idea who this guy was, or why he was with my ex-husband, or even if I *should* uncuff him. But his sweet smile and deep voice persuaded me to help him, and I did. Simon was there, rolling his eyes, and then Jimmy came jogging back, slapping Blair on the back hard enough to knock him forward a step. "Hey, Chief," he beamed, and I started watching them, right from that moment.

It didn't take long to see that whatever Jimmy had been thinking when he'd kissed me in the rain a few days earlier, and such a lovely kiss it had been, he was no longer thinking it. Jimmy is a good man, and I still love him, but he was a terrible husband, a cliche of a terrible husband: a silent, sullen, tv-watching, beer-drinking cliche. Good in bed, I'll give him that, and he certainly is *neat*, but there's more to a marriage than that.

And he wasn't *that* good.

So, with a minimum of rancor and not much more fuss, we had separated and then divorced, and then he was just a colleague, a colleague I'd seen naked and sitting on the toilet, but those were just isolated memories. Simon and I stayed friends, Jim and Simon stayed friends, and even Jim and I stayed friends, kind of. And then Blair Sandburg came along and the world as I understood it was sent packing.

I'm smiling as I think about this.

* * *

"Sandburg!" Jim roared as he came through the front door, hunting around him as if he thought Blair were hiding somewhere. Instead, he came shuffling out of his bedroom, yawning, hair exploding from his head.

"Yeah?"

"Goddammit, did you tell Carolyn that we were living together?"

Blair stared at him, waking up. "Uh, yeah."

Jim rolled his eyes and slammed his keys into the basket next to the door. "Shit. Shit."

"Why? Is it a secret? Man, you gotta let me in on these things."

Jim reached the fridge, pulled it open, and stuck his head in it. "Not a secret." But his muffled voice sounded guilty to Blair.

"Oh-kay," Blair said, and went into the bathroom. Jim could hear him peeing and then washing his hands. He pulled his head out of the fridge, grabbing a beer, then reached in and grabbed another. He had it open and was waiting by the time Blair shuffled into the kitchen. They clinked bottles and drank.

"So what's the big deal?"

"Really, nothing. Just -- I dunno. She was always raggin' on me about how anal I was, how impossible to live with." He shook his head. "Then she meets you and can't figure out why you're here."

"So?"

Jim plunked down on the couch, long legs stretched out. "I'm not anal," he said sulkily, and Blair laughed.

"Yeah, and I wear a buzz cut. Come on, Jim, you're, like, the king of anal. Not that that's bad," he added hastily, at a glare from his roommate. "No, it's a nice counter-balance to my more, uh, non-anal way of being in the world." He sat on the smaller couch, leaning against the arm rest.

"Non-anal," Jim scoffed. "You mean you're a pig. Look at your room, for god's sake." He gestured toward it with his beer. "Papers and books everywhere, clothes piled up in the corners, your bed never made. You'd have old food in there if I'd let you. And you *are* going to wash those sheets this year, right?"

Blair scratched his head. "When did this become about me? I thought we were talking about your relationship with your ex-wife?"

"I don't have a relationship with my ex-wife; that's why she's the *ex*-wife."

Blair raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, just took another sip of beer.

"Well, a working relationship. And sometimes we have lunch. And I took her to dinner not too long ago. But that was the first time since we were divorced. It just didn't work." His voice trailed off.

"Why not?"

He glared at Blair. "Is this for your dissertation?"

Blair raised his hands. "Hey. Just shmoozing with my roomie. No big deal."

Jim shook his head and looked down at the beer in his lap. "I don't know, Chief. I really did love her." He laughed, a sad sound. "I, uh, didn't feel she appreciated me."

Blair remained silent, but watched Jim closely. Under his scrutiny, Jim felt himself blush a little.

"I mean, I'm not all bad. You've been here a few months and you don't, uh. . ."

"I'm not your wife, Jim," Blair said gently.

"I know," he snapped. "But you wouldn't stay if I were some monster, right? Even for your diss?"

"No. I wouldn't stay if you were a monster." A long pause. "Did Carolyn say you were a monster?"

Jim snorted. "Not in so many words. Cold. Unresponsive. A dickhead."

Blair laughed, and somehow that made it better. Jim started to laugh, too. "Well, hell," he finally was able to say, "I guess I can be a dickhead." That made Blair laugh even harder.

"Yeah," he gasped out, "You can be. But I don't mind."

Jim smiled at him, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

"So it's okay that Carolyn knows I'm here?"

"Oh, hell, yeah, Chief. She just got a little snotty about it. Snide, I guess."

"Snide. As in slyly disparaging. Insinuating."

Jim blushed again. "Yeah. Snide."

Blair nodded, and took another sip of beer. "But you're okay with that. With her being snide. With me having given her something to be snide about."

"You didn't give her shit, Chief. She just made it up herself." He took a gulp of beer and belched. "Fuck her."

"No, thank you," Blair said primly, and they started laughing again. After a while, he said, "I haven't eaten all day. I was so tired I just crashed out when I got home from school. You want something?"

Jim looked interested. "Yeah, maybe. What ya got?"

Blair stood up to start investigating the kitchen cupboards. "Oh, I get it. Conditional love. Conditional upon what I can put together for dinner."

"Somethin' like that, Chief," Jim agreed, and watched his roommate rummage through the kitchen.

* * *

I was so shocked when Blair casually mentioned he was living in the loft. Jimmy's loft. He'd been interviewing me for his closed societies dissertation and somehow, I don't remember how, it just came out. I managed not to gape at him, but I did cut the interview a little short. Even though I think it's an interesting and worthwhile topic.

A few days later, Jimmy came down to forensics to check on some piece of evidence one of my technicians was analyzing. As always, he stuck his head in my door to say hello. Something had gotten into me, though.

"So, Jimmy," I drawled, leaning back in my swivel chair to look up at him. Tall, handsome drink of water that he is, leaning against the door jamb, smiling down at me with those blue, blue eyes. "When'd you open a homeless shelter?"

He looked -- shocked, I guess. Stunned. As if I'd slapped him. I felt almost sorry for him and sat up in my chair. "Don't know what you mean," he said weakly.

"You know. Your sidekick. The shadow. Little Big Man. Your ride-along. James Ellison, Junior."

"If you mean Blair, Carolyn, just ask."

But I couldn't. I realized, to my humiliation, that I was jealous. Why else was I being such an asshole? We stared at each other for a minute more, and then he stood up straight.

"Jimmy," I said quickly. He turned back, face still stony. "I'm sorry. I just --" But I had no idea what I just did.

"That's okay, Caro," he said, but even an insensitive idiot like me could see it wasn't. It wasn't in the least okay.

* * *

Jim was a little relieved when he heard that Carolyn was moving to San Francisco. Wasn't natural, he thought, working in the same place as your ex. Some days he couldn't remember why they'd divorced; other days he couldn't remember why they'd married. Loneliness, he supposed. He was a lonely man.

Well, he used to be. He looked up from his computer at Blair, saying something earnestly to Joel. What an unlikely friendship *that* was. Yet there they were, heads together, discussing the fate of the world or a recipe for chile or who knows what. Blair's earrings flashed as he scooped the hair back behind his ears, catching Jim's attention and drawing it away from his ruminations. He bit his lip and looked back into the depths of the monitor.

Yet Joel and Blair's friendship was no more unlikely than his and Blair's, he supposed. So, no, he couldn't claim to be lonely anymore. He had a roommate, a partner, and a teacher, all in one short, curly-haired package of energy and intelligence and *passion*. Blair's good spirits were such a striking contrast to Jim's surly reticence. He knew what the two of them looked like to outsiders. Not to Joel or Simon, but to casual observers of Jim's almost compulsive touching of his friend. To Carolyn.

Jim shook his head. He'd never get this report finished. He managed to focus on the words for thirty seconds when he smelled Carolyn's perfume. A tiny hint of bergamot. He knew that because of Blair, of course; he'd walked Jim through several perfume stores and now he could recognize nearly fifty scents, by brand name and ingredients.

"Jimmy?" Her voice was soft and a little hesitant. Without moving his head, he looked up at her, leaning against his desk. Behind her, he saw Joel and Blair watching, then Blair tapped Joel on the elbow and they headed toward the break room.

"Jimmy, I wanted to apologize for being so snotty the other day. Especially now that I'm leaving. I don't want to leave on bad terms."

"It's okay, Caro," he said with false good humor. "You're supposed to be on bad terms with your ex."

"Jimmy," she said again, and this time put her fingers on his chin, gently drawing his face up towards her. She looked tired and a little disheveled.

"You okay?"

She nodded. "Not enough sleep. I've been packing at home and work, plus training some of my staff to take over a few of my duties until they hire someone to replace me."

"No one could replace you, Caro," Jim said sincerely, and she smiled. Oh, yeah. *This* was why he married her.

She moved to the side of the desk and sat in Blair's chair, rolled up next to Jim as always. Only when Carolyn sat there did Jim realize how close he and Blair sat. More grist for the rumor mill, he thought glumly. Especially now that evidence of his marriage was leaving.

"Are you okay? Ever since the Switchman case, you've seemed a little -- off, I guess. Are you?"

He watched her closely, remembering her face in orgasm, in anger, in love. "It's hard to stop loving someone, you know?"

She looked a little surprised, but recovered quickly, a look of recognition crossing her face. "Yeah, actually I do know. Jimmy, I still love you. I just don't think we were meant to be married."

He smiled sadly. "No, we weren't. I'm sorry for hurting you."

She put her hand on his forearm and squeezed. "Honey, you know I was the one who did the hurting. You deserved so much more. I hope you find someone."

"You, too," he said tightly, and she leaned over and kissed his tense jaw, then gently wiped away the lipstick smudge. "Let me take you to dinner before you go, Caro. One last goodbye."

Her smile was all the answer he needed: sad and sweet and already far away. "Thank you. Thursday night?"

This time he kissed her, the first time he ever kissed her at work. No need to be cautious anymore. It couldn't be more over if he were dead.

* * *

When I moved to San Francisco, Jimmy and Blair helped me pack my pickup. The movers had already taken the furniture and what seemed like a hundred boxes, but I had some personal things I wanted to keep with me. It's only two days to San Francisco from Cascade; you can make it in one long day, but I prefer not to. I thought I'd stop somewhere south of Portland tomorrow tonight.

I was impressed with Blair. He's erudite but not overbearing. It's easy to forget that he's one of the most educated people I know. He's kind and funny and very easy to look at. But most of all, I love watching him with Jimmy.

He's good for Jimmy in a way I never was. He can get Jimmy to laugh and relax. He seems very sensitive to Jimmy's moods, which I certainly was not. They just pissed me off. I didn't feel it was my job to cater to Jimmy, anymore than I thought it was his to cater to me.

But I wonder now if that's what went wrong with our marriage. That we should have catered to each other. I saw in Blair's behavior how special he thinks Jimmy is. And I thought Jimmy was special; I still do. But not enough to worry about his allergies, which apparently have gotten quite severe. Not enough to help him find clothes that don't cause welts to rise. Not enough to keep Jimmy from turning into a cop when he discovered the marijuana plants on my elderly neighbor's back porch.

But Blair did. A hand on Jimmy's shoulder, a slight frown, or a laugh, and Jimmy would stop, turn his head slightly to catch Blair's eye, and then things would be all right again. How could I not like him? I was still jealous, but I think that was natural, too

When my pickup was packed and the house cleaned, they took me out for a last dinner in Cascade. I was going to spend the night at my sister's and leave in the morning, but I was happy to stay a little longer in their company. They took me to, of all places, a Golden Temple, one of the Hare Krishna restaurants. The sight of Big Jim Ellison quietly slipping off his shoes and entering that kind of establishment made my eyes pop, but he just looked at Blair and said, "Order for me, Chief. I can never remember the name of that stuff I like."

No beer, no meat, and a big plate of vegetables. Who the hell was this guy?

After dinner, we walked for a bit. I was enjoying myself, even knowing that I would miss Cascade, miss my friends. Finally, we ended back at my high-gloss red pickup, parked behind Jimmy's battered blue one. I turned to face them and leaned against the passenger door.

"I really enjoyed this evening, guys," I told them, and saw both their faces light up with pleasure. I hugged Blair, much to his surprise. He blushed as red as my truck. "You take care of Jimmy," I whispered to him. He kissed my cheek, squeezed Jimmy's biceps, and then slipped away up the street a bit, giving us some privacy.

I turned to look up at Jimmy. I'm a tall woman, but he has a good four inches on me and since I was in running shoes, I was aware of every one of them. I've always found him a handsome man. Desirable. Someone I was proud to be seen with in public. He'd pissed me off royally at times, but I still loved him, even if I no longer wanted to live with him.

I hugged him, too, and he kissed me. Not passionately, but thoroughly. It felt good, but it also felt like goodbye. Tears came to my eyes and I had to sniff and swallow a bit before I could say goodbye to him. My ex-husband. My friend.

As I drove away, waving at them standing together on the sidewalk, I wondered when I'd see them again. Would they still be roommates and friends? Still working together? But I turned my mind toward my new life and left them behind me.

* * *

Simon said, "Hey, did you hear that Carolyn got a promotion?"

Jim raised his eyebrows. "Uh, no, I didn't. What's she doing now?"

"Still in San Francisco, but now she's head of forensics for the entire North Bay Area. They're putting together what's going to be a phenomenal data base of genetic material; apparently the state's is pretty worthless. She'll be in charge of it all."

"Wow." Jim really didn't know what to say. Well, except, "So she writes you?"

"Yeah. Writes or calls. Maybe once a month or so." Simon stared at him from behind his thick gold glasses. "I guess she doesn't keep in touch with you."

"Well, birthday cards, Christmas, stuff like that." Jim shrugged. "We *are* divorced," he pointed out. Just then Blair stuck his head into Simon's office and knocked. "Hey, Chief," Jim smiled, relieved he was here to divert attention from Carolyn.

"Hey, Jim, Simon. Listen, I saw the report on your desk, Jim, about the Burkowitz case. I think I have a couple ideas. Is this a good time?"

Simon waved expansively. "Come on in, young Sandburg," he said, only partially facetiously. "I've got an interesting blend of Kona and Moka for you to try while you share with us your ideas."

"Oh, man," Blair said, plopping down into the chair next to Jim. "You've been watching Inspector Morse on PBS again, haven't you."

Jim chuckled into his cup, trying unsuccessfully not to let Simon or Blair see how much he enjoyed their banter.

* * *

Oh, I was lonely in San Francisco. My new job ate up the days; I often put in ten, twelve, fourteen hours, and worked most weekends. My staff was suddenly too large and too geographically diverse to get to know well very quickly, plus I didn't want anyone to see how overwhelmed I was by it all.

And San Francisco really is a city of women and gay men. I had despaired of ever finding someone to love. Eventually, I'd made friends. Someone to go a movie with, to meet for coffee, an occasional lecture. But to settle down? I was nearly forty, divorced, childless. A workaholic. I realized that I'd turned into the type of man I swore I'd never marry.

Thank god for Simon; he kept me posted on what was happening in the Cascade PD. Short emails, once or twice a week, with some gossip about high-level misdoings, recommendations for movies and books, and good wishes. I heard about some of the cases Jimmy and Blair worked on. Simon was very proud of their solve rate, although a bit mysterious about it, too. I suppose it was having the observer along that made Simon so uncomfortable. Or maybe Blair's free-spirit appearance? But I've always been a pragmatist: whatever works. And Jimmy and Blair appeared to work very well.

But reading Simon's email took less than a minute, out of the thousands of minutes I spent at work. I shook my head. I really needed to get a life.

* * *

"Oh, honey," Jim said, wishing he could do something beside be sorry. That's all he could ever do: be sorry. "I know how much you loved your dad. Of course I'll come to the funeral. When did you get in?"

He listened to Carolyn cry. He'd liked his ex-father-in-law okay, he guessed. Certainly he got along with him better than he did with his own father. But he always had the feeling that Carolyn's dad saw him not as his son-in-law, but as the Man Who Was Fucking My Daughter. Jim had even abbreviated it in his head: MWWFMD. Hi, I'm the MWWFMD. Your wife invited me to dinner, okay?

And now he was dead, of a coronary. A blessing to go so quickly, he supposed. His mother-in-law was still alive and in good health, and of course Carolyn's oft-married and equally oft-divorced sister. But the world was a little diminished now.

He saw Blair watching him from the couch where he was reading. Jim narrowed his sight and realized he was reading one of his police journals. Then he focused his attention back on Carolyn.

"Yeah, honey, I know," he soothed, wishing this phone conversation were over. "Yeah. You give your mom a big hug for me, okay? Do you want me to come by tomorrow? Can I do anything? Sure, I'll do that. You call me when it's set up and I'll be there. Blair can take care of work.

"Yeah, he's here. Yeah, sure. Hang on." He put his hand over the receiver. "Hey, Chief. Caro wants to talk to you."

Blair dropped the magazine in his haste to get to the phone, but his face expressed his puzzlement and curiosity. "Hi, Carolyn. Listen, I'm so sorry about your father. I can't imagine what you're feeling right now."

Jim studied his friend as he curled around the phone, leaning into it as if he could hug Carolyn through the connection. He'd taken his glasses off and looked, as he often did to Jim, vulnerable and young. "Of course I'll come. I'm honored that you'd want me there. Yeah, Carolyn. You take care, now, okay? Wanna talk to Jim? Oh? Okay. Okay. I'll tell him. Bye." He clicked off and placed the phone back onto its cradle. "She says she'll call you tomorrow and that she loves you."

Jim nodded. The two men stood there in the quiet loft, each thinking about death and loss. Jim reached out and gently curled his hand around Blair's shoulder, rocking him slightly. Blair laughed, but not really a laugh, just a little exhalation of breath, a gasp, and then stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Jim.

Jim hugged him back, resting his head on Blair's, and closed his eyes. Life was so fucking *fragile*, he thought, remembering all the times he'd come too close to losing Blair, and the time he really had lost him. "I'm such an idiot," he whispered, and Blair pulled back, looking at him curiously.

"Why? Why?"

Jim shook his head. He couldn't explain his thought processes even if he could speak. His throat had closed up in an excess of sorrow -- for Carolyn, for her mom, her sister, for himself. His own lost mother. His estranged father. Blair's lost father. His peripatetic mother. For Blair. Lost and not yet found. He pulled Blair to him again, afraid, almost, to let him go.

* * *

Losing my father was the single worst thing that ever happened to me. Even divorcing Jimmy was easier, because things had gotten so bad between us that the breakup wasn't a loss but a relief. But this was just a loss.

I was happy to see Jimmy there, with Blair beside and one step behind him. I hugged and kissed them both. I made them sit in the front pew with family, because as far as I was concerned, they were. I knew people were watching them, wondering why they were there; they'd been in the news so much lately. Poor Blair. I'd caught his press conference even in San Francisco. I couldn't imagine what he was going through.

The service was nice. Thank god my sister was there; she had been the most together of us and had organized something my dad would have loved. Nothing too flowery or religious, just some good music and a few friends speaking, then a big party afterwards. Jimmy and Blair came, too, but didn't stay long. After only an hour or so, Jimmy found me and we stood on the front porch, enjoying the cool summer evening, while Blair pulled the pickup around. He got out long enough to hug me again, and then climbed back in, to give Jimmy and me a little privacy.

"He's a nice man," I told Jimmy, a little shyly. He nodded and studied his shoes. "Listen, Jimmy," I put my hand on his sleeve. He'd worn a good suit to my dad's funeral; Dad would've enjoyed that, too. Jimmy is, as Blair would say, so not into suits. I stroked the soft material under my fingers. "I really wish you the best. You've had such a rough time. I know you don't want to talk about it, but if you ever do . . . And you two can always come for a visit. I have a sleeper sofa you can use, and there's so much to see in The City."

Jimmy kissed me and whispered, "Thank you, Caro. Call me before you go back. Maybe we can have lunch."

"My treat. Wonderburger." He smiled and kissed me again. I watched them drive away, Blair remaining at the wheel.

* * *

Carolyn had called shortly after the press conference. The Press Conference. Jim had really appreciated that phone call. He knew he'd been such a fucking asshole. She had wanted to know if Jim was okay, if Blair was okay, if *they* were okay. The two of them. Jim wasn't real sure at the time.

So when she heard the news that Blair was going to attend the Academy, she called again. This time she called for Blair. Jim sat in the kitchen, cleaning his weapon, and shamelessly eavesdropped. Not that they really said anything. Blair sounded a little subdued, a little embarrassed; Caro sounded a little embarrassed, too. "Are you sure this is what you want, Blair?" Jim heard her ask, and saw Blair shoot a quick glance his way.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, I know I want to be Jim's partner. I know I want to stay in Major Crimes. I guess this is the way to do it."

"What about going into forensics?"

"Naw," he said more confidently. "I need to be in the field with Jim."

"You *need* to," she said, and they were both silent. Jim cleared his throat and tried to look as if he couldn't hear every word they were saying, not that he'd fool Blair.

"I want to," Blair finally corrected himself.

There was another long silence, and then Carolyn said, "You've been so good for Jim, Blair. You two are a great team. I'm glad this shit isn't going to break you up." Jim raised his eyebrows; Caro hardly ever swore.

"It almost did, Carolyn," Blair said softly.

"But you fixed it. You always do, Blair. I, uh, I wasn't a very good partner for Jim. I never would have had the courage to do what you did. Never."

Jim could feel the heat of Blair's blush from where he sat in the kitchen. "No, Carolyn. I was an idiot. I only did what I had to."

"Maybe. But I think you're a hero."

Jim heard Blair choke a little, in surprise. "No, no. I can't let you think that about me. I messed up, big time, Carolyn. You don't know, you weren't here. . ."

"Doesn't matter what you did. Maybe you did mess up. Whatever happened, like I said, you fixed it. Thank you, Blair. For taking care of Jimmy."

Blair was silent again, but Jim smiled, a little dreamily. Blair had fixed it. Really, Blair had fixed Jim. Jim had been the asshole but Blair had still figured out how to make things work.

Finally, Blair said, "Thank you, Carolyn. I just did what I had to. I'm happy you think it was the right thing to do."

They didn't say a lot more after that, and hung up shortly. Jim didn't ask any questions, and Blair didn't volunteer anything. But Jim smacked Blair's back firmly on his way upstairs, and Blair had smiled shyly up at him.

* * *

Simon and I continued to email each other pretty regularly. We'd always been friendly, and became more so after Jimmy and I divorced. We'd even sort of dated a few times: a couple dinners, a movie, a benefit. We kissed good-night and hugged, but nothing more than that. I guess the spark just wasn't there.

But we stayed in touch. So I'd heard that Jimmy and Blair were having difficulties. Simon had confided in me that he wondered whether or not they were lovers. Sometimes I think yeah, sometimes I think no way. But I can't help but think about it, he'd written me early in our correspondence.

I wondered, too, when Blair had first moved in. Jimmy was so protective of him. And the way Jimmy touched Blair -- I'd never seen him behave that way. Certainly not with me. Not that I would have permitted it, to be petted and coddled like that. It struck me as sexist at the time. But it couldn't be, could it, if he was petting and coddling Blair. Too late, I realized that Jimmy was dying to touch and be touched. Like all the others in his life, I'd refused.

But Blair didn't. Blair stepped right into his personal space. Leaned against him as if he were a friendly wall. Petted him back. Anchored himself, or maybe Blair anchored Jim. I was envious at first. I can admit that now, a thousand miles away and four years later. I was a little snotty to Jimmy about Blair until I'd gotten to know him.

So learning they were having problems upset me. I wanted them to be together. I wanted Jimmy to be happy, and I truly believed that Blair could make him happy. I didn't know if they were lovers or not, but I certainly wanted them to be.

I called them both, separately, on their cell phones, but neither volunteered anything. Told me they were fine, everything's fine. So full of macho bullshit. "That's macho bullshit," I told Blair, who seemed a bit taken aback at first, but not for long.

"Carolyn, really, I don't mean to be rude," he said calmly, "but it isn't any of your business."

"I'm *making* it my business," I snapped, but then relented. "Look, Blair. I care about both of you. It's just that I've, uh, well, heard some things."

He sighed heavily. "I can imagine. Even I've heard some things." Finally, a little humor in his voice. "Jim and I -- we have this intense relationship. Neither of us are quite sure how to proceed. I mean, we live together, we work together, we eat together, we go on vacation together. I've never spent so much time with one person in my life. And you know what a loner Jim was.

"So we're just figuring things out and have hit a little rough patch. It'll be fine."

"What does that mean, rough patch?"

"Carolyn," Blair said, his voice humorous and cautioning at the same time.

"No, I'm serious. I know it isn't any of my business, but I'm still asking."

After a few seconds of hissing silence over the phone, Blair said, "I think it's mostly me, really. I wasn't brought up with, uh, monogamy as an ideal relationship. Serial monogamy, maybe. But to stay in the same place with the same person for over four years is really messin' with my mindset."

"You're making a joke out of something that isn't funny."

"I know," he said sadly. "I told you that I didn't know what to do."

"Blair, you have no reason to trust me. I didn't last two years with Jimmy, whereas you've hung in there twice as long. I haven't found anybody to settle down with, so I have no track record, no basis from which to offer advice.

"But, Blair, I know Jimmy. I know the before-Blair version and I know the after-Blair version. You're good for him.

"What I don't know is the before-Jimmy version of Blair. Only you do. So you need to ask yourself: am I a better person because of my years with Jimmy? Is my life better because I'm with him? Do I miss something from my years without him that I can't have while I'm with him?

"I don't know the answer to those question. But I can guess. I can guess because I know Jimmy. And I guess that you are a better person, that your life is better, and that you have more now than you ever did before."

There was a long pause this time, but I didn't try to fill the silence. I let Blair think about what I'd said.

Finally, he said, "I think the question for me is whether pre-Jimmy Blair would still be in Cascade. And the answer is 'no.'"

I didn't know what to do with that. I closed my eyes and sent a little prayer out that Jimmy would survive this. "I'm sorry," I finally said. "Try not to hurt him too badly, okay, Blair?"

He said, "I pray every day not to hurt Jim. Every day." We hung up at that.

* * *

Jim honest-to-god did not know what was wrong between him and Blair. He'd thought as hard as he could about it. He'd diffidently broached the topic with Simon. He'd tried repeatedly to talk to Blair, who shied away as if struck.

He wondered if relationships had an expiration date, like milk and yogurt, and theirs was just going bad. It had, after all, lasted over four years. It had lasted Blair's death, and Jim's betrayal of him. It had lasted through the humiliation of the dissertation fiasco and the subsequent recovery. It lasted through Blair's graduation from the academy. It had lasted far longer than any relationship Jim had ever been in before.

I can't believe I'm calling it a relationship, Jim thought, staring into the scabby mirror behind the bar. It was on the beach, a small dark place he used to frequent when he was surfing regularly. Shabby, nearly empty, with Heineken on tap and dollar pitcher nights every Tuesday.

But today was Thursday afternoon. He'd skipped out of work, out on Blair and Simon, because it just hurt too fucking much to be there. Like being in some looking-glass world. It looked the same but everything was reversed. Instead of Blair yapping at him about his feelings, about not repressing shit, about opening up, Blair was being Jim: the stolid, silent, sullen asshole that Jack had tried to change, Carolyn had divorced, Simon had disciplined. Everything Jim didn't want to be, Blair was.

Simon's advice was to give him time. Fucking lot of help that was. Jim raised a finger to the bartender, a fat blonde woman, and she drew him another mug. To be fair, which was something Blair had taught him, by the way, but to be fair, Blair really wasn't as awful an asshole as Jim had been. In fact, he wasn't an asshole at all, but a shy and damaged man trying to make his way in a hostile world. And Jim was responsible for most of the damage.

He gulped at the beer, wishing it would wash away all his guilt and anger and fear. Fucking fear-based responses.

But what had caused this? After everything they'd gone through, what the fuck was wrong with Blair? This was worse than just before he and Carolyn had separated. Much worse. He was still numb when Caro was in his life, only half-alive compared to now. Compared to post-Blair. But all his senses were in high gear now; the most sensitive man in America, as Blair called him. When he had still been Blair.

Jim was seized with a desire to speak to his ex-wife, to ask her for help. He took another gulp of beer and then headed toward the restrooms and pay phone, fumbling through his wallet, looking for Carolyn's work number. He couldn't find it so he called Information and asked for the San Francisco City Hall. He thought she worked there.

Five frustrating minutes later, he realized it was idiotic to complain to Carolyn about Blair. At best, she could commiserate. I'm sorry, Jimmy, he could hear her say very sincerely, but what then? At worst, she'd tell him he deserved it. You treat your partners like shit, her voice in his head told him, and he knew that was true. He rested his head against the old fashioned black phone, wishing with all his heart that he could just go home and everything would be back to normal.

Impulsively, he dialed Blair's cell phone. He heard it ring and ring again, and then, "Sandburg."

Jim stood leaning into the phone, almost lying against the unfinished plywood wall, listening to Blair breathe at the other end of the line. "Hello?" he said. "Jim?" Jim closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Jim, are you okay? Simon and I are worried about you. Where are you?"

But Jim couldn't speak, couldn't say anything. What was there to say? His breathing jerked in his chest and he felt an enormous pressure in his throat. He sniffed and wiped his face, continuing to press the phone against his ear.

"Jim, I'm going to hang up. You go home, now, okay? It'll be all right." But it wouldn't. Jim knew that now. He could hear it in Blair's patient voice. The two men listened to each other for several more seconds, until Blair finally cut the connection. Jim continued to hold the phone until it began to beep in his ear. Slowly he hung up

* * *

To: CPlummer  
From: Simon Banks  
Subject: news and weather

Hey, Carolyn. How's the database coming? I read an article about it in the Cascade paper. Sounds as though it'll be the envy of the nation. I'm not surprised, with you in charge.

Yeah, things are still rocky between them. Neither of them are talking, at least to me. But I heard Blair moved out of the loft. Jim's having some physical problems, too; nothing for you to worry about, but enough that I'm keeping him on desk duty for the rest of this week. I think it's just stress.

I don't know, Carolyn. I've wondered that myself many times, as you well know. My guess is, yes, they were lovers, but hell. They could just be closer than brothers.

I saw your sister last week, at a friend's wedding. Jesus, you didn't tell me she was engaged again! Well, if you come up for the wedding -- assuming there is a wedding -- I'd be happy to escort you.

Joan's well, thanks for asking. We're getting along a lot better now that Darryl's older, no surprise there. And he's amazing; I'm so proud of him.

Okay, back to work. Hope you're all right.  
S

I re-read Simon's email yet again. Jesus, poor Jimmy. I remember how withdrawn he could get when he was hurting. I think that's what Simon was seeing now. Somehow, despite his best intentions, Blair had hurt Jimmy and now Jimmy was emotionally fleeing the pain.

Blair had said that he prayed every day not to hurt Jimmy. Not all our prayers are answered, but I did want this one to be. I wish I knew what had happened, and not just out of prurient curiosity. I wish I could help. I wish I could make things better for them both.

I thought about calling Blair again, but I really didn't know him well enough to insist he be more forthcoming. It was clearly very personal. I, like Simon, believed they were lovers. They way they touched, the way Jimmy let Blair take the lead, the way he watched Blair, the way Blair looked at Jimmy -- no, no. Not brothers. Partners, yes. A couple of foolish men trying so hard.

I decided to call Jimmy. He'd be at his desk, Simon said, so I tried there. He answered on the first ring and sounded like an injured bull. "Ellison!"

"Jimmy!" I said as happily as I could. "How are you? I've been missing you so much."

There was a long pause and then Jimmy said, "You're calling about Blair, aren't you." His voice was flat, expressionless.

"I had heard something," I admitted.

More silence. I remembered these silences. When we were married, they just made me angry. Sullen asshole, I shouted at him once, trying to get a rise out of him. Now I realized that Jimmy was in a black hole of pain that swallowed up all his attempts to communicate. Oh, Jimmy.

At last he said, "Look, Carolyn. It's just. He just needed some space." He almost whispered the last words. Needed space? What the hell did that mean?

"Did Blair tell you that?" No answer of course. "Look, Jimmy. I'm going to give you some unsolicited advice. When we were married and fighting, I *wanted* you to engage me. The last thing I wanted was space. The more I'd push, the more you'd pull away.

"Don't repeat those mistakes, Jimmy. Please, keep trying."

"Carolyn," he said, his voice strained and a little shocked sounding.

"Please, Jimmy," I said again. "Wherever Blair is, just go to him. Hang up the phone and go to him and tell him how you feel."

"I don't know how I feel," he whispered, barely audible.

"Yes, you do," I said forcefully. "And if you don't, you better figure it out before it's too late."

"I, uh, I have to go, Caro," he said in a different voice, and I realized someone must've entered the bullpen. Well, I'd done my worst.

"Okay, honey," I told him. "I love you."

"I love you, Caro," he said, and we hung up.

A week later I decided to attend the forensics conference being held in Cascade.

* * *

After an unsatisfactory dinner of Cheerios and bananas, while washing his few dishes, there was a knock on the door. Jim recognized Carolyn's scent.

He kissed her cheek and drew her into the loft. She was dressed as if to go out for dinner or dancing, in a pretty green dress that flattered her skin and hair.

Once she'd settled on the couch, she took his hand and gently stroked it. "How are you, Jimmy?"

He shrugged. What could he say? "Okay. And you?"

"Fine, fine. Here on a little vacation. There's a forensics conference in town this week. I'm off to hear the keynote speaker. But I wanted to say hello."

"Hello," he smiled, flattered.

"Where's Blair?"

His smile left abruptly; he could feel his face close up like a shuttered window. "I don't know, Caro. He doesn't live here anymore."

She studied him, her intelligent eyes sympathetic. "Do you realize you've been with him twice as long as we were married?"

He stood up abruptly, pulling away his hand. "Jesus, Carolyn. I'm not married to Sandburg."

She watched quietly as he prowled through the living room. Finally he forced himself to stop, and to smile at his ex-wife. "Sorry," he said. "Don't know why I blew up like that. Can I get you a drink? You used to like beer."

"I'm driving, so no. But you always made better coffee than I did."

He was happy to escape to this task, keeping his back to her as he asked about her job in San Francisco, old friends she recently seen, a movie she liked. When he finally sat again, this time in the big yellow chair, he felt better than he had in days. Since he'd realized Blair was gone. He felt grateful for her cheering presence, and gave her a welcoming smile.

"You look good," she told him, sipping the coffee. "And the loft looks good. Stylishly masculine." He was absurdly pleased. "Blair's doing?"

"Caro," he said flatly, trying not to grind his teeth. "What do you want from me?"

She sat down her mug and said, "Did you do what I suggested, Jimmy?"

Oh shit. He couldn't go through that right now. As she asked, "Are you all right?" he leapt up from the chair and strode to the balcony doors. It was too cold to go out, but he stood staring toward the bay.

"I'm fine," he said finally, and heard her snort. "It's true," he insisted, wondering why he was lying to her.

"Jimmy," she said softly, kindly. "I've been in touch with Simon. I've talked to Blair. I even saw him today."

He spun. "Where? Is he okay?"

She nodded. "Physically, he's all right, although a little thin. He's a nice man, Jimmy." She hesitated, then said, "I think he's good for you."

Jim stared at her, trying to absorb all the connotations in her tone of voice and words. She was smiling at him, a small smile of affection and understanding. "You're having a hard time with this, aren't you."

"A hard time with what, Caro?" His mouth was dry and gummy.

Still she smiled at him, a little knowing. "Remember our friend Martha?" He thought for a moment, then nodded. "She used to say that 'we're always the last to know.'"

For several seconds he puzzled over this cryptic comment, until he remembered Martha, sitting right where Carolyn was now, outing herself to them. After a long and apparently happy marriage, she'd met another woman and fallen in love. "When I told my sister," she had laughed, a bit teary eyed, "she said she'd known since I was a little girl. Others have told me that, too. I guess we're always the last to know."

"I'm not," Jim started, but he had to stop lying. To himself, to Caro, and especially to Blair. "I am," he whispered, and Carolyn stood and hugged him. "I am," he repeated.

"I know, sweetheart. I think I've always known." She held him tightly as he shook and shivered in her arms.

He was dry-eyed and calmer when he finally pulled away to kiss her. "You were always good for me, Caro," he said, making her smile.

"I wish that were true. Listen, I have to go, Jimmy. I really do want to hear this guy's talk. But you talk to Blair, okay? He'll be home soon, and he needs to know how you feel."

"Is he? Will he?"

She turned at the door to smile reassuringly at Jim. "It's okay, honey. Everything will be okay." And leaving only the scent of bergamot behind, she left Jim to his thoughts.

By midnight, he was seated at Blair's desk, practicing the words he would use. What an idiot he was. What else had he repressed? Who else would he hurt with his dishonesty?

* * *

"Carolyn says you've remarried!"

Jim's mouth opened slightly in surprise, juggling the frozen dinners in his arms as he awkwardly and automatically responded to the woman's handshake. "Uh, no, no," he said mildly, wondering who the hell this bitch was. Tall, white, pretty in an expensive way; what was she doing wandering around the frozen food section of Safeway?

"No? I could have sworn she said you've been married for years. Hmmm," she looked coyly at him, gold jewelry winking in the fluorescent light of the freezers. Who the hell was she?

"Hey, Jim," he heard behind him, and turned with relief to find Sandburg pushing the loaded shopping cart his way. He dumped the frozen dinners into the cart with relief and rubbed his goose-pimpling arms.

"Aw, Jim, do you know what's in those things? Just look at the ingredient list."

"Come on, Chief. We've been so busy lately, I thought having a stock of these would take some of the pressure off."

Blair raised his eyebrows and smiled at Jim. "Good intentions, good idea. But let's see if we can get something that doesn't increase our daily dose of MSG quite so dramatically." Jim had to smile at this, only turning back to the woman when he heard her clear her throat. Oh, shit. She wanted him to introduce her to Blair but he couldn't remember her name.

The expression on his face must've clued in Blair, because he unhesitatingly stuck out his hand and said, "Hi. I'm Blair Sandburg. Jim's partner."

The woman's eyes widened and a knowing smile curled her reddened mouth. "I'm Melissa Dalton, an old friend of Jim and Carolyn's. From when they were Jim and Carolyn."

"Hey, how is Carolyn?" Blair said with genuine interest. "You still keep in touch?"

"Oh, yes. We just met at a college reunion. She looks *wonderful*, and seems very happy in San Francisco. Although I was sorry to see her leave Cascade; her family and friends are all here."

"Yeah, I was sorry to see her go. She was a great asset to the Cascade PD."

Melissa raised her eyebrows even higher. "You knew her that long ago?"

"Yeah, I've known Carolyn for, uh," Blair glanced up at Jim, "five years? A little more?"

"That sounds about right," Jim said, wishing this conversation were over.

"Hmm," Melissa said.

"Well, we'll never get home at this rate." Blair started pulling out the frozen dinners Jim had just dropped into the cart. "Nice meeting you, Melissa. When you see Carolyn, tell her hi."

"Yeah, tell her hi," Jim added weakly. Melissa smiled at him and then waved a gold-bangled wrist at them as she moved off, delicate on her high heels, the green basket full of Lean Cuisine hanging from her arm.

"What was *that* all about?" Blair whispered. Jim just rolled his eyes and waited for Blair to decide what they'd eat for dinner. He watched Blair fondly as he sorted through the ingredient lists of a dozen brands of frozen dinners, looking out for Jim's well-being. He couldn't help himself; he reached out and stroked Blair's neck, lightly dragging his fingertips across the skin. Blair turned and looked at him, an intense and intimate look of exasperation and love. Then he smiled, and Jim felt an answering upswelling in himself.

* * *

Melissa called me. She was screaming with laughter. "Why didn't you tell me?" I've never liked that woman. I have no idea why I talked to her at all at that stupid reunion. Too many mai-tais. Jesus.

Still, it was funny. The look on Jimmy's face when she told him I'd told her that he'd remarried -- oh, to be a fly on the wall.

I suppose I'll be hearing from him about this. I didn't mean to out him. And really, I didn't. I just told the truth. Theirs is a marriage of true hearts and minds and, probably, souls. I deeply envy them.

Simon wrote me that he caught them kissing in the break room. Another missed fly-on-the-wall opportunity. I guess he tore them each a new one for bringing that behavior to work, and then bought them a magnum of champagne and took them to dinner. He's as much of a romantic as I am.

After I got off the phone with Melissa, I walked down to Union Square (my apartment's on Post, just two blocks west of Powell). I went to the Borders there and bought them Frances Mayes' Under the Tuscan Sun and a glossy card with a picture of a herd of cats.

In the card I wrote: Congratulations, and all my love. I signed my name and mailed the book and card to James and Blair Ellison-Sandburg. I knew I was being naughty, but I laughed the entire time.

Yeah, I expect to hear from Jimmy very soon. I'll remind him that the first time I met Blair, he asked me to uncuff him.

Guess I didn't do a very good job.


End file.
